


When I Walk All Alone

by engineDriver



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, hey ladies is it gay if you sing a song with a girl under the moonlight, songfic-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21518101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engineDriver/pseuds/engineDriver
Summary: Dorothea finds solace in rehearsing in the ruins of Garreg Mach's cathedral, but when Petra asks her if she can teach her an old aria, she'd rather not give her old memories an encore.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary
Comments: 14
Kudos: 52
Collections: Dorothea/Petra Day 2019





	When I Walk All Alone

_They can see all my beauty which lies_  
_concealed in my heart, perceived_  
_from my outward charms. So, this scent of ardent desire_  
_surrounds me and fills me with pleasure!_ –[La Bohème](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ouWV7aQTGM&list=FLVxI-M-PUadHFj3Cn0PMbCQ&index=2&t=0s), [Act II](https://www.singerspirit.com/musettas-waltz.html)

* * *

The moonlight hits her like a spotlight through the cathedral dome’s crack. The woman adjusts her posture, righting her back, hands perfectly clasped. (You must _never_ slump—the stick whapping her back in rehearsal always reminding her.) She begins to sing.

_Quando me’n vo’ soletta per la via,_  
_la gente sosta e mira_  
_e le bellezza mia tutta ricerca in me_  
_da capo a piè…_

Dorothea glides between the sooty pews, gradually opening her arms at the end. (It is vital to invite the audience in during this stanza— be gentle— but be coy— let them take in your beauty!)

_Ed assaporo allor la bramosia_  
_Sottil, che da gil occhi traspira_  
_E dai palesi vezzi intender sa_  
_alle occulte beltà_  
_Cosi l’effluvio del desio tutta m’aggira_  
_felice mi fa!_

She places her hand on her chest, raising her eyebrows and smiling widely at the empty, silent audience in front of her. (You must always project the emotion in your face as well— sell them the illusion— remind them of what they cannot have!)

_E tu che sai, che memori e ti struggi_  
_da me tanto rifuggi?_  
_So ben:_  
_Le angoscie tue non le vuoi dir,_  
_ma ti senti morir!_

Dorothea hits the final note of the aria and exhales, a hand clutched to her stomach. The vibrato of the last high B was shaky, but it is good that she is still rehearsing. For this evening, stretching her vocal chords on her own seems the less exhausting option than refining her swordsmanship with the Adrestian army.

A click of heels and an inquisitive voice from where the cathedral doors once stood interrupts her solitude. “Dorothea, that was beautiful. I don’t think I’ve heard you sing that song before?”

Dorothea turns from the altar to find Petra approaching her. She greets her with a smile and flushed cheeks.

“Oh, how sweet of you. I would have never sang that song in our school days. Doesn’t exactly align with the church’s teachings… but since they aren’t here anymore, I don’t think the monks and nuns will have the chance to complain.” She laughs drily.

“What you were singing… I realized I didn’t know any words. It is not in Fodlan, is it?” Petra cocks her head.

“It’s the Enbarr language, but most people from there don’t even know it anymore, or at least fluently since everyone speaks in the common tongue. Most of the operas that we sung at Mittlefrank are in Fodlan, but many old operas are written in Enbarr and some languages from northern Faerghus. All of us had to learn the basic grammar and pronunciation of these languages, but only a few were fluent.” Dorothea mutters quietly with a knowing smile, “…It came in handy for transmitting messages.”

“Wow, I did not know you knew other languages! I am impressed!”

Dorothea laughs and shakes her head. “Oh no, Petra, you are the more impressive of the two of us. You are fluent in two languages. I couldn’t hold a conversation in Tailtean to save my life!”

Petra smiles and shuffles on her feet. “You are very kind, Dorothea. I am still working to improve every day. Would you… could you teach me how to sing that song?”

“Oh no, it’s just a silly little song. I don’t think you’d want to.”

“It doesn’t sound silly to me at all. What is the meaning of it?”

Dorothea balks, her smile flattening. “I… it’s kind of childish.”

“I can tell this song means much to you. I am interested in learning about it, unless you would not like to. I will understand.”

The singer gazes to the side, towards the moonlight hitting the floor in a jagged circle. “Well, it’s about… a young woman. Who is very beautiful but very poor.”

_Dorothea arrives at Garreg Mach with a lively skip in time to the tinkling of her bracelets. She is glad that she purchased a new pair of shoes with from the remainder of her savings. She never fantasized using what she hid in the cork box under her bed at the opera house for school clothes._

“She,” Dorothea bites the corner of her lip. “She knows that she is beautiful and that people admire her when she’s walking alone on the street.”

_She spots a group of knights relaxing against the stable fences. Ducking behind a wall, she rolls up her skirt before strolling in front of them, aware of the eyes on the back of her legs. She turns back and winks at them._

_In the rear guard of the troop formation, she sees ahead the bodies of three Faerghus knights discarded on the ground. She lifts up her heavy skirts when she walks past so as to not let them brush over their bodies. Doing so otherwise would seem disrespectful. She does not turn back._

“The woman… relishes that everyone desires her. Even the smell of such desire fills her with joy.”

_The perfume rising from her temples turns the heads of the noble students when she walks past them. She feels the hunger in their eyes. The fumbling of their cravats, phantom hands on her body._

_After returning from the campaign, Dorothea realizes it has been a week since she has bathed. The stench of old sweat and flaked blood in her hair makes her gag._

“She, she brags that everyone knows that she is beautiful on the inside and outside. But… what she wants most of all, is the love of a rich man.”

_On a date with a knight, she realizes that she has run out of topics to discuss. They sit in unsure silence, until he chuckles. “The more I get to know you, the more I realize that you really have nothing to say.” She laughs lightly but pulls back from the tavern’s table._

“…So she does what she can to have one support her. To survive.”

_“Beautiful! Magnificent!” the crowd rises in a roar as the teenager bows to them. Tears rim the corners of her eyes, picking up the bouquets her admirers have left. She memorizes the nobles’ names on them so as to remind herself to call upon them later._

_She walks through the dormitory halls, noting the name plates on the doors, the shriveled bouquets, dusty bottles, musty bed sheets, knowing that their owners will never come to claim their belongings._

Dorothea doesn’t continue. She wrings her hands, turning away from the princess.

“I’m sorry Petra, I don’t think I can teach you this song… it reminds me too much of someone I don’t like to dwell on.”

“I understand.” Petra’s response is prompt, but Dorothea knows there’s no disappointment or annoyance behind it.

Silence weighs heavy like the remnants of the arcade above them. Dorothea thinks she will be pressed into the floor if she stays any longer.

“I think I’ll be going back to my room. Goodnight Petra-”

Petra steps towards her. “No, Dorothea, I am sorry for causing you pain. For reminding you of bad memories.” Her brow furrows in thought, “I am, no, I was afraid to sing the songs of Brigid when I first was brought to Fodlan. I thought they would make me sad.”

Dorothea lifts her head towards Petra. “I don’t think that I’ve ever asked you about Brigid music before… what is it like?”

“We don’t have anything that’s like operas, but I understand that operas have songs which tell stories? There are many songs from Brigid which are stories too. They’re happy, sad, or funny. Sometimes all at once!” Her eyes shine, “But unlike the operas, one person usually doesn’t sing the song by themselves. Everyone sings together in people’s homes or during festivals.”

Dorothea’s eyes widen. “That sounds lovely. Oh, and in opera, not all songs are sung by one person. There are many duets or songs where a chorus of people sing together,” she smiles, “If you’d like, would you share some of your favorite songs with me? I’d love to hear one of them.”

A flush creeps across Petra’s cheeks, “My voice is not as beautiful as yours, Dorothea. But thank you, I would be glad to. My father and I liked to sing this song together.”

Petra closes her eyes and begins to sing on a deep breath. There is a natural ease and confidence to her voice that captivates Dorothea, even if she strains to hit and hold the higher notes. The princess tilts her head towards the moon shining through the cathedral dome, hands clasped as if in prayer. Dorothea realizes in her reverie— that this is the first time she has ever heard Petra sing or even speak in Brigid. There is a slight waiver, she observes, in her voice towards the end.

Petra lowers her arms and opens her eyes, catching Dorothea staring at her widely. She blushes, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear.

Dorothea shakes her head, “No, no, no. Petra, that was _enchanting_.”

“You are making me blush, Dorothea.” The princess discreetly hides behind a hand.

A small smile graces Dorothea’s mouth. “No, it really was lovely. What is the song about?”

“I’m not sure how well I can tell the story in Fodlan,” Petra catches the other woman nodding encouragingly at her, “But I will try my best. In the story… there is a knight who is said to have a spirit inside of him that can make him fly above the water, like a bird. The King has been… he has promised to marry a beautiful woman who lives in Dagda. A lord’s daughter. He wants to bring the woman to Brigid and he asks the knight if he can bring her.”

Petra laughs slightly. “The funny thing is the knight cannot really fly. But he does not want to disappoint the king and he prays to the Moon, the spirit of the Moon, if she can move the sea?” She shakes her head and makes a parting gesture with her hands. “No… erm, if she can make a path in the sea for him to walk through. The Moon tells him that she can but only if he brings the bride back to his home. So this knight, he is able to walk through the sea when the Moon moves the waves. But when he comes to Dagda, the bride suddenly becomes sick and dies.

“The Moon closes the sea in front of him,” Petra pauses, “and he is sad because he thinks he will be in Dagda forever. He will never see his home or family again.” (Dorothea notices the slightest crumple of her chin.) “The knight tries to walk in the ocean, but he drowns. No one from his home ever finds his body. He returned to the sea.”

Dorothea looks down at the floor. “That was heartbreaking, Petra,” she says quietly, “I’m sorry if I overreached by asking.”

Petra wipes her nose and the corners of her eyes. “No, I am glad you asked. I wanted to share this story with you.” She bites her lip.

“When I first came to Fodlan, I am—” she pauses, “I _was_ thinking that I am like the knight who flies across the ocean. When I was able to go to my room by myself, I used sing this song even though I was scared I would get in trouble. But I was quiet, so nobody could hear me.”

She turns towards Dorothea, who looks up at her.

“I still like to sing this song, but I know now that I am not the knight. I can make my own path. And I do not have to walk it alone.”

Dorothea returns her proud smile with tear-rimmed eyes. She steadies her voice.

“Petra, you said that in Brigid, everyone likes to sing together. And I know how lonely it is to sing by yourself.” 

She steps towards the princess.

“If you wanted… I could sing that song with you so that you will never have to sing it on your own! I, I don’t know Brigid but if you teach me how to sing your favorite songs I’d love to sign them with you. Or any other songs you want… even mine,” there is a crack in her voice, “I’m not ready to teach you that song yet, but there are so many arias and duets out there that I want to share with you!”

Petra grins and takes Dorothea’s hands into her own. “Dorothea, let’s sing together.”

And Petra teaches Dorothea how to sing in the moonlight. She stumbles over the pronunciation, but Petra is a patient teacher and shares with her the meaning of the words. The two women’s hands and mouths meet at times, forming a complex harmony of themselves. Their voices rise far above the crack in the dome and the monastery behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Ed: I wanted to thank Meg (strikinglight) for letting me bounce the concept of the fic off of her! Thank you for your support!
> 
> Oh my goodness! The irony of being so captivated by the story and characters of 3H is that I've been so fearful about writing something until now! Dorothea/Petra is one of my favorite pairings and Dorothea might be my favorite character (I'm still figuring that out). I adore her character development and how she is basically the game's conscience during the war phase.
> 
> I wanted to write something music-related for my DoroPetra Day fic, and my love for folk songs and interest in opera undoubtedly helped me here. I haven't seen "La Bohème" for a good 5 years, but it definitely seemed like the opera the Mittlefrank Opera House would cast Dorothea in. The song Dorothea sings in this fic, "Quando m'en vo'" is one of my favorites, and when I started reading translations and analyses of the lyrics, it hit me that the song and Musetta's character is who pre-timeskip Dorothea is trying to be! The title of this fic is based on one of the translations of the first line, and I owe a huge gratitude to the Singer's Spirit blog for [their analysis and translation of Musetta's aria ](https://www.singerspirit.com/musettas-waltz.html) (for I do not sing opera myself, know how to sing professionally, or know Italian).
> 
> Petra's song is loosely based on the Scottish folk ballad ["Sir Patrick Spens"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5DZtxcX5KoI), like how "Rent" is loosely based on "La Bohème", but I hope I've written the better adaptation. There's themes in the song that remind me of Petra, her status as a hostage, and her complicated relationship to the Adrestian Empire. I tried adapting the lyrics to what we know about Brigid and its religion from Petra.


End file.
